


Flower Theft

by Florayna



Series: A multishipper for Multikicker [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 09:11:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13678674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florayna/pseuds/Florayna
Summary: 'A RAMPANT BRITISH GAY HAS TRAMPLED MY PETUNIAS'In which Satya is slightly irked.Lena is a thief.And 01010011 01101111 01101101 01100010 01110010 01100001 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100010 01100001 01100101





	Flower Theft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Multikicker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multikicker/gifts).



> That casually slipped in meme though.

Satya is sick the first time it happens.

 

The architect is seated on her couch, watching the news channel on her flat screen. It’s Thursday and she’d rather be working, but even she had to admit that in her state the most productive thing to be done was rest and recuperate. Current state being, a mess of sniffles and coughs and groans and oblivious to the growing number of used tissues overtaking her surroundings. It’s frustrating, to watch the sun rise and begin to fall with nothing to do, no progress made despite her plethora of projects to tend.

 

But as the light of day beings to wane, something glinting in the evening sunlight catches her eye. It’s a pair of goggles, nestled over the mop of wild brown hair that belongs to… some random woman in her garden?

 

Satya sits up then, quickly raising her hands to rub her eyes. When she opens them once more, she confirms that, yes, she indeed had an intruder. One with their back turned towards the home owner. Before she could muster the strength to get to her feet, the stranger dashes back over to the waist height fence that surrounded Satya’s garden and vaults over it with ease, then starts briskly jogging down the sidewalk. Apparently unaware that she had been seen.

 

A few minutes later, Satya exits the house, equal parts frustrated and curious. Though the curiosity is quickly sated when she finds a snapped stem in one of her rose bushes, and all that is left is frustration towards the stranger. When she moved to the quiet neighbourhood a month ago, this certainly hadn’t been something she expected to happen. Flower theft.

 

 

 

 

The second time it happens, Satya misses the theft entirely.

 

It’s exactly a week later, Thursday, that she exits her house at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, an umbrella to shield her from the sun in one hand and a basket in the other. The woman intended to spend only a few minutes outdoors to harvest vegtables from her garden. Her peppers, tomatoes, perhaps the zucchini if it was ripe.

 

Then Satya noticed another snapped stem in her previously raided rose bush, another rose missing.

 

The observation prompted two outward reactions. The first, being a deep set scowl at the way the flower had been ripped away. _Absolutely barbaric,_ she thought. And the second, a narrowed gaze looking up and down the sleepy street. Alas, she found no sign of the previous thief. Just the peaceful ambience of the suburbs.

 

Frustration from the previous week resurfacing, Satya determined to catch the woman if she returned again. There would be no third pilfering of her garden.

 

 

 

 

 

Except, the third time it happens, Satya can’t bring herself to do anything about it.

 

She takes the morning off work, and sits in her living room once again. The news plays on the TV, as it had two weeks ago, but her eyes are focused exclusively on the window facing her garden. A bottle of pepper spray sits on her coffee table, ready if needed when she confronts the thief. But just the same as the first time- something unexpected happens.

 

Like, the thief showing up in a three piece suit for instance.

 

This time Satya gets a good look at the woman when she jumps the low fence. She wears a pair of navy blue dress pants, a jacket unbuttoned and form fitting vest to match. Beneath the collar of her shirt sits a lopsided bowtie, vibrant yellow in colour. Though, just as soon as Satya’s annoyance is piqued by the sight of uneven neckwear- she’s distracted by the woman’s face. Two bright brown eyes, scanning her surroundings while she worries her bottom lip. _She’s cute,_ Satya observes, and then immediately regrets calling the one responsible for two weeks of frustration cute. Like any self-respecting garden owner would.

 

Satya waits, Satya watches. The sharply dressed woman quickly makes her way over to the same bush, crouching near it and reaching for the most easily accesible flower. She frowns when the thief recoils one arm suddenly, shaking her hand for a moment.

 

“Careless.” Satya mutters to herself, assuming her… well, ‘guest’ at this point had probably touched a thorn. But that doesn’t deter the woman long. She manages to snap off the flower eventually, and then she’s off, hopped the fence once more and walking off in the same direction as before.

 

Satya sits back down.

 

She doesn’t think about why she didn’t confront the woman.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The forth time it happens, Satya already has a rose plucked and ready for her visitor.

 

She holds the flower up to the woman on the other side of her fence, maintaining an emotionless expression in spite of the slack jawed look she gets. Once the would-be rose raider regains some of her composure, taking the flower and babbling excuses a mile a minute, Satya turns away. Not to go back into her home- to follow the meticulously lain stone pathways in her garden until she reaches the small gate in her fence, latching it shut once she steps onto the sidewalk. A few steps later, she stands in front of the shorter girl.

 

“My name is Satya Vaswani. May I know why you have been looting my garden?”

  
  
“Ah… name’s Lena, Oxton.” The woman said, words carrying a heavy cockney accent. Her left hand went to tug at the collar of her bomber jacket, a blush creeping up the pale skin of her cheeks. “Sorry ‘bout the roses, Love. I was just runnin’ real late the first time and I saw ‘em, I was walking by and…”

 

“And you simply waltzed onto my property to take one.” Satya said, not a hint of malice in her tone. She was simply gathering the facts. “And what of the other two occasions, and today?”

 

Lena’s blush grew all the hotter, the woman turning her guilty eyes towards the pavement.

 

“... Very well. But you still have not told me why you keep taking them.” A few seconds ticked by, and a few more, each getting more and more awkward as Satya waited for the blushing brit to reply. Once she realized she would get no answer, the architect sighed. “Continue on your way, please.”

 

Lena muttered a quick thanks, another apology, and took off at a brisk walking pace. Eager to escape further questioning.

 

And yet, to the brit’s dismay, a set of footsteps started following her own.

 

Satya believed curiosity should always be sated. If not, it would prove to be a distraction, and distractions were detrimental to her work. That was unacceptable. So, if Ms.Oxton was so unwilling to tell her why she kept taking flowers, then Satya would follow the woman and find out for herself. It was a simple plan, one that should have lead to a simple answer. And then she would be bothered no more.

 

They walked for five minutes.

 

They walked for ten.

 

They walked for tweleve.

 

It was at that point that Lena turned, following the shoulder of a paved road that branched off from the main street. Shortly after they passed a tall metal arch, with something engraved on an attached plaque.

 

**_Beechwood Cemetery_ **

__

It was at that moment that Satya felt the guilt settle in her gut.

 

Now, as they walked, she didn’t count the minutes. It felt almost a disrespectful thing to do, to count her time amidst so many who long finished theirs. Instead she kept her eyes on the woman she followed, and busied her mind with observations. The way her shoulders seemed to sink with every step, her head stayed tilted downwards, like she had this unseen path she followed memorised… Satya couldn’t help but wonder who Lena mourned for. Although, she felt that her answer would appear so enough.

 

And it was, in a section that housed the newer graves. Polished tombstones, sheltered by thick trees, with vibrant green leaves on low bearing branches. Lena’s pace slowed and slowed until she stopped altogether, turning to face a granite stone. Her eyes didn’t lift from her feet. The rose stayed clutched in her right hand.

 

Satya turned to read the inscription.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Olivia Colomar-Oxton

 

 

01010011 01100101 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110011 01101111 01101111 01101110 00101100 00100000 01001101 01101001 00100000 01010010 01100001 01110000 01101001 01100100 01100001

 

 

“It’s binary.” Lena said, and Satya felt no urge to inform her that she’d already figured that out. “’Liv used t’ leave me messages that way. No reason, really. There’d just be post-it notes all over the house, all the time. Didn’t bother translating the half a’ them. Not until... Well. You know. Anyway, this was the last one I found.” Satya tore her eyes away from the jumble of 1’s and 0’s she couldn’t comprehend when she heard the other woman chuckling quietly. There were tears streaking down her cheeks now, Lena didn’t even try to wipe them away.

 

“She was flying over to Dorado last year, and... well. You probably know about the plane going down. Every new network from here to Numbani wouldn’t shut up about it.”

 

Satya nodded. They’d called it one of the greatest tragities in the past decade, over 400 lives lost, not a single survivor. And no answer yet for how it happened. When she first heard of the news she hadn’t felt sorrow or grief. And since then she hadn’t witnessed those emotions either, not until today.

 

Before Lena could speak again, Satya plucked the rose from her hand. Then turned, and lay it gently at the foot of the tombstone.

 

They didn’t look at each other after that, eyes only for the name carved before them. Even when Lena started to sob. Even when Satya wrapped her arms around the woman, holding her while grief wracked her thin form. Still, when after Lean’s sobs faded to sniffles, Satya resolved to accompany her next week as well. And the week after that. And the week after that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But a pair of eyes did watch them.

 

Violet. Hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

 

A pair of eyes that belonged to a short woman, leaning on the side of a mausoleum a distance away from the pair. A woman whose cybernetics pulsed a purple similar to her attire, a woman who stood here every week. On the same day. To watch the same love she’d left behind mourn an empty grave.

 

“Just a little longer, mi Rapida.” She whispered to herself, words laced with sorrow. “Wait for me a little longer...”


End file.
